Pending
by Shadewolf7
Summary: ON HOLD 1st chapter replaced
1. Prologue

_I do not own. Period. Except ideas._

Prologue

"Shit," Daniel gasped, blue eyes widening in a mix of shock and faint annoyance, stumbling back from the glaiveº-wielding Jaffa.

It distantly flickered into his mind to wonder what a Jaffa was doing with a glaive instead of a staff weapon anyway, but pain and blood-loss from his quickly failing body overwhelmed deliberation.

A blast of orange thunder-Teal'c's blast-lance-and the enemy Jaffa was thrown back, a smoking hole in his chest.

"Daniel Jackson!"

The former First Prime of Apophis caught the staggering linguist and eased him to the ground, his shout alerting the others to their predicament.

"Daniel!" It was hard to tell who had called first, but Jack was quicker on his feet and made it to them fastest.

"Oh, god, Danny..." blank horror crossed the Colonel's face and Carter stopped dead at the sight.

Daniel's heaving chest was ripped open, a deep gouge all the way through his right lung, blood spurting from a torn artery and making it difficult to see exactly how bad.

Daniel coughed, wet and harsh, closing his eyes as he felt his heartbeat falter.

"Sorry," he managed faintly through the all-too-familiar haze settling across his vision.

And Daniel died.

_xxxx_

_Glaive_º-_a weapon somewhat similar to a spear, but with a bladed end, like a (single-edge) sword instead of a spearhead._

_xxxx_

_I'm leaving this chapter more-or-less untouched. Not much I can do to it without changing the _entire_ direction of the story, which is something I have no intention of doing. Tweaking, not rewriting._

_Shadewolf7_


	2. Waking

Waking

Through the shock of losing Daniel, they heard the patrol coming and knew-_knew_-that if they stayed for a fight, none of them would be walking away. Teal'c scooped up the broken body and they broke for the 'Gate, Carter running ahead to dial home.

The instant the wormhole stabilized, the three living members of SG-1 fled through it, carrying the fourth.

_xxxx_

Alarm klaxons blared as General Hammond made his way to the Control Room, arriving just in time to see the iris open-he would have protested the lack of protocol, but one of the airmen said "SG-1."

"They aren't due back for another week!" Hammond already didn't like the sound of this.

He liked it even less when only three figures stumbled through, one of them carrying a fourth.

Jack spun on the ramp, raising the bloodied weapon he'd grabbed without knowing why, "Close the iris!"

"Do it," Hammond snapped, turning to another of the airmen, "Get a medical team down there!"

He got to the Gateroom well before Janet's crew, "What happened?"

The glaive Jack held clattered to the ramp.

Carter seemed to snap out of the daze that held the three conscious members of SG-1-Daniel appeared to be out cold.

"A-a Jaffa scout, sir... he came out of nowhere a-and..." her voice broke and Teal'c finally moved, gently laying Dr. Jackson on the floor, revealing blood, so much blood...

"Dear god," Hammond breathed, stepping forward. This would break SG-1, hell, this _could_ break the whole SGC...

A flicker of blue light, almost like electricity-

And Daniel's back arched as he gave a horrible, wrenching gasp and twisted sideways, coughing blood, hand going to his shoulder, then hip.

A few seconds of stunned silence and Jack broke for Daniel's side, dropping to one knee-and froze, Daniel's Air Force-issue combat knife glinting against his throat, the man himself somehow in a fighting crouch _behind_ Colonel O'Neill.

Blazing eyes held confusion and anger, "Who are you?"

One could practically see Jack thinking 'Oh, crap, Danny's a host'. He spoke very, _very_ cautiously, "Danny, it's me..."

A brief pause, then the knife eased away from vulnerable flesh, "I... know you?" half statement, half question. "Why can't I _remember!_" frustrated rage touched his voice, giving him an aura of suppressed danger that they'd never seen in the peaceful Doctor, despite the fact he released O'Neill and backed up.

Janet arrived just in time to catch the tail end of that rant and made her way towards the baffled group of people.

The confused Immortal saw her and eased to the side, knife held in a defensive stance.

"Daniel, I want you to try and calm down. Whatever happened, we can deal with it-"

"Do I know you?" he asked warily.

"I'm your doctor, Daniel," she tried to be soothing, worried at his response. Amnesia and Daniel Jackson-that would be bad.

"Lady, I don't need a doctor. I need to know where the hell I am, how I got here, and preferably why I came." Even with the knowledge that he couldn't remember something, his voice held calm, if slightly sarcastic, certainty.

"Danny," the one he'd just released said carefully.

And, quite suddenly, everything from the past several thousand years came crashing back in a raging torrent painful, confusing flashes.

The faces before him suddenly had names attached, moments good and bad—_Chappa'ai._ Past and present blended, shifted, blurred.

Daniel swore violently in a long-forgotten language as he hit his knees, hands flashing to his temples as he struggled to sort through the tempest of memory.

He heard voices—_outside_ his head—but the words made no sense as peices of his past flashed before his eyes, languages spoken not at all similar to the one he heard.

He instinctively flinched away from a hand reaching for his shoulder, not quite able to bring up his weapon while some part of him recognized these people around him.

"Daniel."

Familiarity brought forth more recent memory, a crystalline shape that shattered even as he tried to grasp it, and the shards became a hundred moments with these people—his team, his _friends._

He gasped and shuddered, slumping against a sudden hold on his shoulder, wearily raising his head to look into a deeply concerned face.

"Jack?"

A slow, almost hesitent nod to the half-question.

"I… remember."

_xxxx_

_Only modified the end of this chapter, but modified it _has_ been._

_xxxx_


	3. Flashbacks

_Not all is explained in this chapter, but all will be when I have enough time to sit down and really _write.

_xxxx_

After Janet had finally been satisfied that Daniel, once again, had come back from the dead without picking up any hitchhikers (not to mention seemed to be completely in once piece, no hint of the wound SG-1 had described), she got a few blood samples from Teal'c and Daniel's shirts and retreated to her 'office'.

She wasn't able to believe that Daniel had truly been injured until she finished testing.

She re-entered the infirmary from her office and fixed a glare on the archaeologist, who had fallen asleep on one of the infirmary cots.

Janet spent a few moments debating the merits of waking him up and getting answers now as opposed to letting the obviously exhausted man sleep when Daniel solved the problem for her, blue eyes blinking open, muscles tensing with a wariness she hadn't seen directed at her since the fiasco with Mackenzie.

It... hurt.

"Daniel?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calmly professional.

He flinched, visibly, almost as though he'd been struck.

Janet took a step closer, alarmed at the reaction, and more worried when he shied back, somehow reminding her of an abused animal. Another step, and she realized the sheen of sweat on his brow, the slightly labored breathing.

Had he been having a _nightmare?_

"Daniel," she said again, more firmly, continuing her approach.

For a moment, she thought he would calm down and let her talk to him, then his hand went to his knife, bringing it to a guard position in front of his chest, still staring at her silently.

Wait--that wasn't quite right. Staring at her white lab coat.

What was going on? Had something happened to him that none of them knew about? Why was he acting like she was going to hurt him?

It was the coat, she was sure of it, but what would cause a reaction like _that?_

Janet backed away carefully, Daniel's eyes tracking her every move, and she ducked back into her office and removed the lab coat before venturing back out.

The knife was still in his hand, but held slightly lower, a bit more loosely.

"Daniel?" she tried again, this time getting a more positive response.

The knife slowly dropped to his lap as he considered her, trying to place the face and voice.

"Daniel, what is it? What's wrong?"

A flash of _something_ in his eyes and he lifted the knife a hair, closing his left hand over the blade, hard.

"Daniel!" Janet started forward before belatedly realizing that might not be such a good idea.

Daniel shook his head slightly, focusing on the bite of steel against flesh, using it as an anchoring point to _now_. He drew a shuddering breath, raising haunted eyes to his doctor. "Janet..." the blade clattered to the floor, "Gods, Janet, I'm sorry."

She was at his bedside in record time, pulling his hand towards her to inspect the damage--he'd done a number on his palm. Nerve damage, certainly, and it looked like a few sliced tendons, too--_What the...?_

She jerked her hand back with a startled yelp as flickers of bluish electricity sparked across his palm. By the time she looked again, the gash was gone and Daniel was flexing his hand, testing for residual damage.

"Daniel?"

He refused to look at her, "Get... the others. Jack, Sam, Teal'c... the General. And... meet me in my office."

_xxxx_

Daniel paced the floor of his office, thinking. Trying to force his jumbled memories into something like the order they had once had... and he stumbled across an ability he had long since forgotten.

His eyes turned thoughtfully towards the security camera in the corner. Now was as good a time as any to figure out whether he could still do it...

He stopped, closed his eyes, envisioning what he wanted--and _reached._ A heartbeat later, something seemed to click in his mind, and he knew with absolute certainty that the camera was offline.

And just in time as someone rapped on the door--a token courtesy, as it was opened before waiting for a response.

Despite the military higharchy of rank, Jack entered before the General, but all five of those he'd expected had arrived.

At least he would only have to explain this once.

"Daniel."

"Jack."

Aknoclwdgement, a sense of something _more_ filled the single word reply.

A brief, confused sigh from the Colonel's direction, "What is going on?"

Daniel's eyes flickered over the five, then the open door. Too risky--these five, he could probably convince to be silent... he wasn't so sure about anyone else.

"Close the door."

Janet, the last one in, frowned but obeyed, then made her way over towards one of the shelves, noting Daniel's quick assessment of her, seemingly searching for weapons.

"Daniel--what is this about? What happened to you? Why did you--"

He cut her off with a slightly raised hand, "Janet."

Hammond was getting impatient, "Dr. Jackson, Dr. Frasier came into the briefing room in the middle of a debriefing talking about you and nightmares and something about not recognizing her and hurting yourself. What is going on?" Firm, irritated. Just shy of a demand.

Daniel sighed and waved at them to get comfortable. "It's a _long_ story. It does not leave this room."

"Daniel?" Sam voiced the question of all, "What?"

He cut her off, "I want your word, all of you, that this conversation never reaches anyone else without my permission."

"Or?" Jack.

Daniel knew that slight hint of sarcasm wouldn't keep the Colonel from giving his word, but he wanted all of them to realize this _wasn't_ a joke.

"I disappear. You never hear from me again. If you ever catch up to me, you'll only be finding a body, because as long as I live, there _won't_ be a trail to follow."

For several long seconds, no one spoke. Daniel was serious--frighteningly so.

"OK." Colonel O'Neill agreed, shaken. "No telling unless you say so. You got it."

Not exactly what he was asking for, but Jack wouldn't break that promise. Not to Daniel.

"I give you my word that I will speak of this to no one, Daniel Jackson."

Carter nodded, "It won't leave this room without your permission."

Slightly more hesitantly, the final two oaths were given, and Daniel closed his eyes, _reaching_ for the door--now the click wasn't only in his mind. The deadbolt slid shut and Daniel knew the door would not open.

"I want to make something perfectly clear before I begin," he said quietly, "I would never--_never_--have kept this from you for so long if I had remembered."

"Danny?"

He drew a short breath, "There's no real good way to say this, so I'll just say it. I'm Immortal."

Confusion. "What? Daniel--"

"I've never seen any evidence of--"

"Dr. Jackson, what--"

"I do not understand."

"Danny, I've seen you--"

A jumbled mess, the lot of them trying to speak at once, and Daniel raised his hands to his temples, trying to sooth the headache that he'd been nursing since his memories started coming back. "That's enough!" he snapped irritably.

"One: I'm Immortal. Two: Janet, you wouldn't have seen evidence before today. Give me a while to explain, things are still a little fuzzy. Three: I wasn't always 'Dr. Jackson, or even 'Daniel Jackson'. Hell, I haven't always been _Daniel._ Four: Teal'c, even knowing everything, I hope you _never_ really _understand_ what this is. And five: Jack, I know you've seen me die. Today not the first and probably not the last time."

A pause, and they seemed to mutually elect Jack as their spokesperson. "Danny?"

Daniel made a frustrated sound, "I might as well start... with when I met you, Jack. Our first mission, the one to Abydos. After Ra dropped his ship on top of us and ordered you killed."

"And you stepped in," Jack finished, any attempt an levity gone from his voice.

Daniel nodded, "I knew I'd be OK. That, even if it killed me, I'd be all right. I was... partly right. If the bastard hadn't stuck me in his Sarcophagus, I would have been..." He snorted bitterly, "I didn't know what it would do to me. I didn't know he _had_ one, much less that he would use it... It interfered with my Quickening, as far as I can tell. Somehow reverted me to pre..." He shook his head.

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, there, Danny," Jack held up his hands in a pleading gesture, "What are you talking about?"

"Quickening. It's... an Immortal's life-force, I guess. It's what makes us immortal. Ra's nasty little gold box blocked it off, somehow, and reverted me to a pre-Immortal." His voice lowered to a mutter, "I didn't even know that was _possible_..." he picked back up, "And... I lost most of my memories. It's why I was so slow and confused for a few hours after I woke up. My mind... replaced some of my memories with ones that might be feasible, but weren't entirely true. They were based off some of my real ones, so they fit the cover-story for this lifetime..."

It took several hours, but Daniel explained. Everything they asked, he answered truthfully, even going so far as to slit his own wrist and let them watch his Quickening heal it.

And, finally, Janet asked the one that had been bothering her the most. "Daniel... back in the infirmary... what _was_ that?"

He froze.

The room went completely silent, Jack even stopped toying with the pen he'd found.

Finally, Daniel gave a bitter half-laugh. "I was hoping you'd forgotten that. Fine. It was back during the Nazi occupation of France..."

_Daniel had always been good at avoiding attention; it was why he was still alive. But with Nazi's everywhere and his slight accent, someone found out he spoke Hebrew. He never knew who._

_He wasn't sure which of the soldiers had fired the shot, but he knew he was in trouble when one of the officers saw him heal._

_And he was. This was something their precious Aryans couldn't do--heal within minutes of being semi-fatally wounded._

_Daniel was brought in for 'testing'._

He didn't say exactly what had been done. He didn't need to. He _did_ mention that they always wore white lab coats and that he'd killed himself in the messiest way he could so it would take long enough for him to heal that they'd throw out his body, thinking him dead.

The Nazis were nothing if not efficient in removing the bodies--they'd already dissected him alive, there was nothing more to get from his corpse.

"I woke up a few days later. Turns out they'd dumped me in one of the mass burning pits, and my body wasn't entirely consumed. It took me a while to heal."

He sighed softly, dropping his head to his hands, "I'm sorry I reacted like that, Janet. It's just... flashbacks."

_xxxx_

_OK, well... I know that left off awkwardly, but I have no time to finish right now. I don't really like this chapter, myself, but it was necessary. Oh, well. I'm perfectly willing to redo it if someone has any good suggestions?_

_**Shadewolf**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Help! I'm tormenting everyone!_

_xxxx_

"Just flashbacks. Right," Jack once again fell on sarcasm as a defense. "Danny, you were _tortured,_ weren't you?"

"Depends. Is live specimen dissection considered torture?" he queried, voice falsely light.

"What did they _do_ to you?" Horror stained Janet's question.

"What do you do to a dead frog in a high school biology class?" Daniel asked bitterly, then shook his head, "I... didn't want to think about it."

"Daniel--"

"It's OK," he interrupted, "It's just that... I didn't remember, but now _everything_ is coming back."

Jack decided a topic change was in order, "So, Danny..." he waited a moment until Daniel looked at him and offered a grin, "How old are you?"

"Older than my teeth, and as old as my tongue."

A pause, this time puzzled, "Where did _that_ come from?"

Daniel shrugged carelessly, "'Bout twenty or thirty years ago, it was a common response to what was considered a rude question. But really, I don't know. I still need some time to sort things out."

"So..." Jack looked slightly hopeful, "You'll tell me when you know?"

"I'll tell you when I have a clear idea."

"What does _that_ mean?"

Daniel snorted, "After you reach a certain age, you stop keeping track. I _could_ figure it out exactly, if I remembered when I was born. Which I don't."

General Hammond glanced at the clock hanging over Daniel's desk and cleared his throat. "I have a briefing in ten. Let's wrap this up."

Daniel nodded, "So, the short of it is, I don't know how old I am, I don't remember very much aside from general things and a few of the nastier incidents in my life, and I'm now going to have to fight for my life while off duty."

Hammond still didn't like the sound of that, but Daniel had had a point when he said that Immortals couldn't always be held subject to mortal law. They policed themselves and their laws were... different.

Daniel had yet to explain _how_ different, but Hammond did not have the time to deal with any more today. "SG-1, I want you out of this mountain until Monday. Formal debriefing at 0900, sharp."

"Yes, sir!" Jack and Sam chorused, somewhat surprised when Daniel didn't join in.

He grimaced, rubbing his temples, "Yeah. Can I stay here until tomorrow?"

Janet eyed him for a moment, then turned to the General, "I don't know anything about Immortals, but Daniel doesn't look to be in any shape to go anywhere before he gets some rest."

Hammond eyed the man and had to agree. "Stay where Dr. Frasier can keep an eye on you tonight."

Daniel looked inordinately relieved, "Thanks."

Hammond gave a short nod, falling into the role of General out of sheer habit, "Dismiss."

Janet turned to open the door only to find it bolted.

"What? I didn't lock this--"

Daniel blushed, "Sorry," he muttered, _reaching_.

With a soft click, the lock opened.

The five now even more confused people exchanged glances. "What the heck was _that?_"

Daniel winced slightly, "Telekinesis?"

_xxxx_

That right there cost them another five minutes--and made General Hammond late for the briefing--during which Daniel tried to explain that he _couldn't_ explain how he did it. "It's not like I can do very much," he added. "I only learned it just before my First Death and I can't move anything bigger than I could lift with one hand, anyway."

It wasn't much, really, but even that slight _push_ could mean the difference between life and death sometimes. He only used it if he had no other choice in a duel, but there was no way he--who had distantly disliked killing for his entire life--would have survived those first few hundred years amongst other Immortals, always playing their precious 'Game', without it.

By now, of course, he would be able to outfight almost anyone... it came with experience, but the hint of telekinesis had come in handy a few times.

"Is it an Immortal trait?" Janet asked curiously.

Daniel shook his head, "Not that I know of--at least, none of the others I've met can do it. I think it's just some kind of mutation, or maybe unique to where I was found. Kind of like Highlanders being too damn honorable for their own good--it always gets them killed."

Jack snorted.

Daniel sighed, running a hand through already mussed hair, "Can I go lie down now?" he asked plaintively.

_xxxx_

As expected, Daniel fell asleep almost as soon as he hit the cot. The dying and revival weren't truly so tiring, but having well over a thousand years' worth of memories trying to get back out of whatever hole they'd been buried in... that was entirely another matter.

Not surprisingly, Daniel dreamed.

_"Hey!" laughing brown eyes met his own as they tried to stalk a lone pony that started and escaped. "You're a bad hunter. We'll never get the pony that way!"_

_Sulking, he braced his spear against the ground and narrowed blue eyes. "You know I don't like to hunt. I wasn't _meant_ to be good at it."_

_The village was not short on food; they could afford to fail in catching their prey, so the mood was light, despite the teasing insults._

_"You would rather watch the pony than eat it!" his friend accused, smiling._

_"They are beautiful beasts," he retorted, sandy hair whipping into his face with the breeze._

_His friend found nothing with which to refute that. They _were_ beautiful beasts. The hunter huffed, folding his arms, heedless of the spear he held that swung in his companion's direction._

_The nameless one ducked, laughing, and scolded him lightly for his carelessness as they headed towards the forest._

_It was sudden, the enraged snarl of a lioness leaping for his friend._

_He never knew what made him do it, but he knocked the other hunter aside and raised his spear, startled into _reaching_ in a way he never had before, somehow slowing the great cat's leap._

_He caught it on the spear-shaft, too heavy to turn aside, and landed on his back, the snarling creature above him._

_A shout that he could not quite understand. No jest in that voice, not now._

_His friend's spear pierced the beast's side--the lioness twisted sharply, snapping the shaft and shaking the head free, bleeding badly._

_The nameless one grappled with it and was shoved down and sideways, gasping as the broken spear's flint tip dug into his side, deep, biting pain._

_The fight became a blur, then he found himself dying in his best friend's arms, the lioness dead a few feet away._

Daniel woke slowly, struggling towards consciousness as he heard someone calling his name. He distantly registered the fact that his cotton shirt was damp with sweat.

"I'm fine," he said in response to the worried doctor's question. He meant it--that dream hadn't been so bad. His first death, while painful, hadn't truly been all that bad. At least, if that had been his first death, which he was fairly certain it was, or he would have had something with a bit more of a blade on him...

"Nightmare?" Janet asked, sounding somewhere between concerned and sympathetic.

Daniel sat up, reaching for his glasses, "No, actually. More of a memory... I think it was my First Death..."

Janet looked slightly skeptical, "And that's not a nightmare?"

He shook his head, "Not really. It wasn't anyone's fault... Jack should be happy. It gives me more of an idea as to how old I am..." He stretched, blinking somewhat sadly. "It was a long time ago."

Now Janet was feeling a bit curious, herself. "How long ago?"

Daniel gave a wry smile, "I'm not sure, exactly, but... at least... oh, ten thousand years?"

For several moments, there was stunned silence. "_Ten thousand_ _years!?_"

He shrugged slightly, "I was in Egypt around a millennia ago, and I'd been wandering the North long before then. I spent some time in ancient China... ran into the first Highlanders up in modern-day Scotland roughly five hundred years after my First Death... had no clue about any of the rules of the Game until Uric taught me..." he yawned, shaking his head in an attempt to wake up, "I was the only Immortal around up there... they called me 'The Gods' Judged' after I revived... I stayed with my tribe until a plague wiped them out."

Janet listened to him almost casually recounting this, if a little sadly, and eyed him askance. "Are there many your age?"

Daniel snorted, "Hell, no. I've had to keep a low profile... although I still used to get tagged by headhunters once or twice a year after leaving the Highlands... well, until Ra's Sarcophagus, anyway... none of the Watchers know I exist, and I plan to keep it that way."

"What's the average life-expectancy for an Immortal?" Janet asked curiously.

"Methos of legend is believed to be five thousand, give or take, and it's believed that, if he exists, he's the oldest Immortal alive." Daniel flopped gracelessly back against the pillow, draping an arm over his eyes and dropping his glasses on the edge of the bed, "Three thousand is considered an Ancient... in the hundreds is semi-common, but the ones that cause the most trouble are usually in their first few decades as Immortals. Most don't live to see a hundred."

"I take it that your age is unheard of?" Janet asked dryly.

"I'd like to keep it that way, thanks. I don't need headhunters showing up all over Colorado... I'd have to go play refugee with Gairwyn or the Asgaard..."

Janet shook her head, though the _very_ old linguist couldn't see. "Only SG-1..." a stray thought entered her mind and she looked down at the half-asleep Immortal, "Considering it's you we're talking about, you're taking this rather well."

Daniel lifted his arm and peered up at her, "Well, they _are_ my memories. Now that I have them back, it seems like they've always been there. I can _remember_ not remembering, but it doesn't feel very... real, if that makes any sense."

Janet shook her head, "This is giving me a headache."

Daniel's answering smile was just a shade vindictive. _He'd_ had a migraine all day.

_xxxx_

_Now that I have thoroughly confused myself... I'm posting this even though I haven't slept in about two days. If, when I reread the thing, it seems weird to me, I may rewrite the entire chapter, just as a warning. Sleep generally changes one's perspective quite a lot._


	5. Chapter 5

_Issa: Thank you, and I am still working on this, despite the long unplanned hiatus._

_Wings: Daniel does kind of ask to be made Immortal... he's just the prime-target character, what with his occupation and tendancy to get killed. Thank you for reviewing!_

_xxxx_

The rest of the week passed in relative peace, for which Daniel was _extremely_ grateful, but he had this nagging feeling that he was forgetting something.

Then his doorbell distracted him from his musings and he glanced up, _reaching_ for the door to let the person in.

Jack took the open door as the invitation it was and waltzed into the house, the door closing behind him. "That's freaky, Danny," he called, hoping to get some clue as to his linguist's location.

"Kitchen," Daniel said, by way of a response.

The colonel wandered in the direction indicated, noticing that one of the formerly displayed swords was missing. Not that Daniel didn't still have lots of edged weapons hanging on the walls.

"Do you have some sort of fixation on sharp, shiny things?" he asked, noticing the missing blade sheathed and hanging off the back of a chair, within easy reach of the Immortal.

"Jack," Daniel didn't bother turning around while he worked on something that was presumably either a late breakfast or an early lunch, "Were you paying attention when I explained the Game?"

A slight pause. "Right. So that's a yes?"

Daniel groaned, "Jack…"

"So," Jack hopped up to perch on a corner of the counter, ignoring the irritated scowl sent his way, "How old are you?"

"Older than you."

Jack huffed and folded his arms, half-pouting. "Tell me!"

Daniel hid a smile and shrugged, "Older than Ra."

Jack blinked, "Really?"

"Yes. Go bother someone else."

The casually dressed colonel made a show of looking around, "There's no one else to bother."

Daniel rolled his eyes.

"So, Danny."

"Yes, Jack?" Daniel let a touch of asperity into his voice.

"Why do you have a sword hanging off the back of your chair?"

"Jack."

"Yes, Daniel?"

There was a blur of motion that ended with Jack landing on the floor with a startled yelp and going cross-eyed to look at the glinting tip of a well-polished broadsword pointed at the bridge of his nose.

"That's why." And the sword disappeared into the sheath and was back on the chair before Jack had quite figured out what happened, then the colonel was hauled roughly to his feet. "Go sit—not on the counter."

Still somewhat in shock, Jack did as he was told. After a few moments of silence, he sorted himself back out.

"Hey, Daniel?"

"Hm?" Daniel slid whatever he'd been working on into the oven and shut the door.

"You never said how old you are."

_xxxx_

On Monday, Daniel was almost relieved to get back to the base. It wasn't like he had anything to do at home, and that sense of having forgotten something was like a constant itch in the back of his mind.

Daniel ran into Carter shortly after entering the base, and Jack soon joined them on the elevator.

"So, Danny," he asked casually, "You got anything sharp on you?"

Daniel glared and declined to answer as Carter frowned, "Speaking of sharp things, sir, what happened to the weapon you brought back from PX5-4327?"

Daniel's head snapped up, a flash of intensity sparking in his eyes before quickly being subdued.

Both his teammates saw it. "Daniel?"

"The glaive?"

"The what?"

He gave the barest hint of rolled eyes, "The thing that killed me?"

The silence was answer enough, even without being coupled with expressions of vague horror.

"I don't know," Jack said finally.

"Don't know what I'm talking about or don't know where it is?"

Jack gave a slightly self-conscious shrug, "I dropped it on the ramp. Haven't seen it since."

Carter frowned thoughtfully, "I wanted to take a look at it."

"Don't take it apart," Daniel ordered, then blinked as the other two looked at him oddly. "What?"

"You feeling OK, Daniel?" Jack asked.

"Mostly, why?"

Jack shook his head, "Nothing. Nothing at all…"

Daniel sighed, "Look… I know I've been acting… different, but… I'm still trying to sort things out."

_xxxx_

The 'Gateroom was scoured until the weapon was discovered… In Janet's office, where she had taken and cleaned it, testing the blood on blade and shaft.

Daniel's. All of it.

Carter got her hands on it next, testing the metal to see what it was. She got a surprise—steel. _Good_ steel, but steel, plain and simple. Not exactly what she'd expected from one of the more technologically advanced races in the galaxy.

Then Daniel got it passed to him in hopes that he could identify it.

_xxxx_

"Well?" Jack asked, perched on the corner of Daniel's desk.

Daniel was either ignoring him or so absorbed in what he was doing that he hadn't heard. Jack was hoping for the latter—then maybe they'd get something on this crazy Goa'uld.

"Daniel?"

The man stood where he was, in the middle of the room, not moving, breathing fast and shallow.

"Daniel!" Jack started up, wondering what was wrong, and the weapon clattered to the floor, the dull 'thunk' of wood swallowed by the bright ring of steel on concrete.

Daniel jerked and shook his head, frowning. "Sorry," he muttered.

"You OK, there, Danny?"

The Immortal in question knelt, prodding at the apparently wooden shaft with curious fingertips, searching…

"All the older Immortals blank out sometimes," he explained absently before his fingers paused against the wood, pressing—and a hidden compartment clicked open.

"Whoa, Daniel, what—?"

Daniel reached into the opening and pulled out a rolled-up sheet of what _looked_ like papyrus and unrolled it gently, reading the page and touching an odd symbol at the bottom.

The hieroglyphs on the page melted and reformed, different now, and Daniel gave a grim smile.

"I thought so."


	6. Chapter 6

_**xxxx**_

"Thought what?" Jack was now officially interested in his… older friend's find.

Daniel didn't respond immediately, caught up in his own thoughts.

"Danny?" Jack tapped the ancient's shoulder.

"Hm? Sorry, just thinking."

"Thinking about _what_, exactly?"

"Right. Ammaut. Five thousand years ago. Nasty piece of work. Even the other Goa'uld were afraid of her—a queen. She became known as 'The Devourer', rumored to eat the souls of the dead. In reality, she was a lot scarier than that, but I don't want to get into that right now.

"… Should I be worried?" Jack asked.

"Not unless it's still the same one."

"And if it is?"

"Depends."

"Daniel!" Jack growled, getting impatient.

Daniel hid a smirk. Some of the bits of his sense of humor that he'd not indulged in for the past few years were making a comeback. But Jack did deserve an answer.

"If her empire still stands, she'll be war at best, our total annihilation at worst. If she's lost some of her standing—which is far more likely—well, I suppose we'll have to wait and see how much. Although… if she remembers me, there might be a bit of trouble. We've met and… didn't exactly get along."

"No, _really?_"

Daniel smiled slightly. Jack's sarcasm had survived the recent shocks.

Everything would be fine as long as the Colonel's sense of snark remained intact.

_xxxx_

Hours later, Teal'c found Daniel in the gym, running through a pattern-dance with a sword no one had seen him bring in, each motion fluid and clean.

And after completing a part of the pattern, he halted, swore, and sheathed the blade with more force than was perhaps necessary.

"What troubles you, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked, not having seen anything wrong with the pattern.

"I'm out of practice," he sighed. "I should be able to do this twice as fast. My old master would run me through for getting so slow."

"Run you through?" Teal'c frowned. Killing one's student was not something he would consider acceptable, and he was certain Master Bray'tac would never do such a thing.

"It gets the point across, believe me," Daniel grimaced wryly, rubbing his chest as though at a remembered wound. "He'd do it whenever he though I wasn't paying enough attention. It wasn't fun, but… it saved my neck a few times in the long run."

Stretching, Daniel decided he'd had enough for the day. He needed a proper sparring partner, but had no idea where he was going to find one. At least, not one of Immortal caliber. But maybe Teal'c would provide a sparring partner of the hand-to-hand variety.

"Well, join me in the mess after I shower?" Daniel offered the Jaffa.

"I would be honored, Daniel Jackson."

_xxxx_

_Short chapter. I know, I know. Be glad I got _anything_ up. Oh, and I've got a poll on my Profile, check it out. Will switch to a different poll in a week._

_Anyway, I'm having some trouble with this story. Anyone willing to be a sounding board for ideas?_

_So really, this is an author's note with a short chapter attached. Help me out, people! I'm near completely stalled!_


	7. Chapter 7

_This story is currently 'On Hold' pending revision—when I have time. I'm afraid, between work and recent upheaval and illness (in that order) I haven't had a whole bunch of combined time and inspiration to write. But I have decided that this story needs a little tweaking. Each chapter will be replaced as it is revised, and a notice will be put up in the summery when a chapter is posted, as replacing chapters within the story does not put up a 'chapter alert'._

_Oh, and if you think of a better name for this little tale, you are welcome to suggest it. The original reason for the title 'Pending' was accident. It was supposed to be 'Title Pending'._

_However, people got used to seeing it under this name, so I left it. As the entire story will be slightly-to-greatly revised, I feel that if ever there were a time for changing the title, now is it._


End file.
